Female Showers

Now I know that a lot of women complain about men's behavior in the bathroom...the biggest complaint being that we spend so much time on the throne and leave horrible stenches in our wake. Okay, fair – I'm sorry, I forgot to bring the Freesia spray to the Lou with me. It wasn't the first thing on my mind when my morning coffee decided to liberate last night's Mexican dinner.

So, yes...we're a little stinkier and we don't always wipe up those annoying little hairs in the sink after we shave, and maybe we don't get all the toothpaste down the drain, so there are little toothpaste pimples on the inside of the sink when we're done, but this is nothing...NOTHING compared to what a woman can do to a bathroom, not to mention three of them.

Here I am...freshly groggy after a mediocre night sleep at my girlfriend's house (keep in mind, she lives with two other girls) and not really ready to get my day started. So the first thing I get is a brief on what products are available for my use because they belong specifically to my girlfriend. Okay, fine...I'll go along with this, afterall, I'm pretty sure she just wanted to make sure I wasn't using Nair as a body wash. So we've got Paul Mitchell shampoo and conditioner, a white, WHITE luffa, and that aromatic Caress body scrub. Armed with a list of usable products (laminated for waterproofing) I stumble into the bathroom and turn on the water.

It was not until the hot water hit my face that I realized what kind of ordeal this whole thing was going to be. There were about seven razors, on the ground, hanging on the walls, swinging from the ceiling, three pink, two white and two baby blue. Let's take a moment to do the math here. Three girls, three razors, right? That would be an appropriate assumption I would think, but here I am among seven of these colorful beautifying apparati. Okay, I get it...different razors, different body parts. Let's assume for a second that each girl uses one razor for legs and one razor for say...armpits. Okay, six razors, but I count seven all together. What other body part would one possibly want to sha....oh....OOOOOOHHHHHH! Oh, that pink razor girl is naaaaassssty. :)

Aside from having to dodge razors the entire time, finding what I needed was beginning to become a problem as well. The vast assortment of conditioners, shampoos, face washes, luffas, shaving creams, razors, bath salts, lotions, bubbles, texture creams, detanglers etc. It was at that moment I realized my measly little list was not going to do me the least bit of good.

As I stood there trying to find the body wash that I was suppose to be using, I felt like I had to catalog all the other products that were there because I was bound to see something I would need later. It was like playing a game of memory and I got to tell you, while I quite enjoy the gentle caress of a luffa and the subtle smoothness of a good body wash, that oatmeal and cocoa butter bar of soap was looking pretty good. Ah, body wash...how could I have missed it, six shelves from the top, three rows back (not four) behind the can of Gillette Sensitive skin shaving lotion. At least now I can clean myself without molesting a roommate's bar of soap.

On to hair. Paul Mitchell, Paul Mitchell...thank god she gave me that tidbit of information, it narrowed things down to about 15 different possibilities instead of the 40 varieties available. Now was it the extra volume shampoo and the tea tree conditioner, or the moisturizing shampoo and the volumizing conditioner, or was it the smoothing conditioner and the awapuhi shampoo...ah, screw it, I'll just use this Nair shit.

I get out of the shower, get back to her bedroom and she asks me if everything is alright. Sure, why wouldn't it be? I feel totally comfortable standing around stark naked surrounded by every conceivable feminine product available on the market.

As not to rouse any suspicions as to the thoughts going through my head, all I could say was, "Yes, hon, everything's fine. Hey, are the pink razors yours?"

All in all I was happy to be able to get out of there alive and I can't help but wonder if this is what Jack Tripper felt like every morning he got ready for work. I'm still not sure if there is a lesson here, but I do feel a bit more enlightened and have stumbled once again on another reason I'm happy I'm a guy.